Methuselah’s Kiss
by artscribler
Summary: Pre-HBP AU :: 6th year and Harry disappears right off Hogwarts grounds. As people were losing hope, an unknown group offers an alliance and Draco is caught in between the power struggle of his Inheritance. Vampires!DMHP


**Methuselah's Kiss**

_-Harry Potter Alternate Universe-_

By artscribler

Disclaimer: All J.K. Rowling. I just have the pleasure of twisting the sad little buggers into horny, hormonal, sexually depraved teenagers.

Summary: Pre-HBP 6th year and Harry disappears right off Hogwarts grounds. As people were losing hope, an unknown group offers an alliance and Draco is caught in between the power struggle of his Inheritance. Vampires! DMHP

Fiction Rate: T - mild language… for now. Rating will change once storyline is completed.

AN: Some of HBP info is added (i.e. horcruxes, Dursley summer, Slughorn, tidbits) but major plot issues are not addressed (i.e. Snape's oath, Draco's mission, Ginny, Bumble's death, etc). That means Snape hasn't deflected to Voldie, Draco has immaculate hair, and Slughorn is unfortunately the Potions Proffesor.

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_**Chapter One: It's All Wrong**_

It was all wrong.

The atmosphere was clogged with fear pouring off people in droves. Laughter was barely heard anymore in either the Great Hall or the common rooms. More often than not it was the sound of someone sobbing over post or in front of the fire. Everything had gone horribly wrong. The worst of it was that they no longer had Harry Potter to look to.

Potter had disappeared one night. Gone like a puff of smoke. For weeks the staff went into a frantic search. But the enthusiasm slowly waned as two weeks became two months. They feared the worst. They were right to fear.

Breakfast that chilly March Monday morning was a sordid affair, even to Draco Malfoy's standard. Yes, Potter had vanished off the known world but that only left him to snap at Ronald Weasley who didn't have the arsenal of comebacks that Potter always seemed to have. Lacking a constructive way to vent his anger and frustration, Draco began mauling his sausage.

"Draco, darling. I have no doubt the poor sausage deserves your treatment but could you please stop? You're ruining my appetite."

His pale eyes glared at Pansy Parkinson as he continued to stab his food viciously.

Pansy sighed, looking over to Blaise Zabini in defeat. But the look was lost as the boy was engrossed with his bacon.

"Have you ever marveled at how perfect slice of bacon could be?" Blaise said softly holding up a bit of bacon reverently. "The delicate art it takes to create that juicy yet crisp quality to it? How it red hue dances when it is bathed it dripping grease? The sweet yet tangy taste as it touches your tongue? Is not the bacon a wonder? Bacon—"

"Blaise," Draco's cutting tone interrupted. "If you don't shut it about the bloody bacon, you're going to find it shoved up somewhere it's not supposed to be."

"But Draco," he gave with a slight whine. "Look at it! It bacon! God created such a magnificent piece of—"

"Its flesh of a pig," Draco said curtly, eyes still intent on his sausage prey. "So is this sausage. But where as bacon comes from slices of meat, sausage consists of ground pork and other such unmentionable parts of pig."

He looked up at his companion across the table holding up his victim with a fork. "Do you know what they use, Blaise?" He gave a slight pause twirling his fork. "They ground everything they don't use. The intestines, the heart, the feet, the ears, the—"

"Draco!" Came Pansy's squeal.

"Thank you for decimating our appetite, Draco," said Blaise dropping his bacon as if burned.

Draco gave a smirk and 'welcome' before returning to his torture.

The silence between the three stretched until one was suicidal enough to break it.

"So," Pansy began but slowed at Draco's long suffer look, "I don't suppose you have any news?"

Draco snorted. News. Is that what they called it now a day? More like gossip. Even among the Death Eaters there was gossip. He was about the say no when he caught Blaise's eye. He mentally sighed. News, they wanted news.

"Nothing new," he replied scornfully. "Their still searching."

There news. Well, as much news as they were going to get. With Potter disappearance, many had put the blame on Death Eaters and they weren't far from the truth… in the beginning. But then two weeks into having Potter at their mercy, he vanished from his cell in the Riddle Manor. They would have assumed that the Order of the Phoenix had made a successful rescue attempt had it not been for Severus Snape informing the Dark Lord that the Order still believed his Lordship was still in possession of the boy.

That had been a lovely get together. Full of _crucios_ and pain hexes. And still no one knew where he was. Draco gritted his teeth is disgust.

Suddenly the doors the Great Hall burst open, silencing the entire hall as they stared with trepidation at who it might be. But they all let out a collective sigh when they say not black robes and white masks but bright shocking purple. Draco thought he was going to go blind.

The girl, no younger than eighteen in appearance, stood in the door way her head cocked to one side as she surveyed the hall. Her attire was entirely muggle starting from the shocking purple tee she wore to the plaid skirt and steel toed boots. Her hair was cut to seem perpetually wind swept with purple chunks of dye mingled in her dark brown hair. As if feeling the hall's stare, her eyes came to rest on the occupants of the room as her Asian featured face smiled.

In the silence of the room, she looked around at the faces and when her gaze came to the staff table, she seemed to have found what she was looking for. And proceeded to skip in her fish net stocking to her designated target.

She was more than half way before Dumbledore seemed to snap out of his surprise and rose from his seat. As if a plug had been pulled, noise erupted at the sound of scraped chairs against stone that heralded the rest of the teachers. The girl stopped three feet from the table with a jerky halt and stared up with a maniacal grin.

"Hi!" The girl waved enthusiastically at them as her bead encrusted wrist jingled at her force.

"Good morning," Dumbledore nodded to her. Everyone could see the teachers itching for their wands.

The girl cocked her head to the side once again and her bright violet eyes staring at him quizzically.

"You Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "Yes, and who might you be?"

"Oh," she said snapping out of her reverie with a toothless grin. "You can call me Lorian. I come bearing a message."

"Then perhaps another location would be suitable," he kindly gesturing to the side door.

"That won't be necessary," said Lorian cheerfully as her eyes wandered around the room. "Only those of import can hear me speaking right now." Her eyes returned to Dumbledore's blue. "See," nodding at the confused students. "They can see my lips moving but can't hear a single word I'm saying. Neat, huh?"

Indeed, the student body was now murmuring amongst themselves with perplexed expressions flittering their faces. Even the staff had a look of confusion with the exception of only a hand full and Snape with his patented sneer.

"Very well," replied Dumbledore as he sat back down motioning others to do so as well. "Please proceed."

Lorian blinked at him blankly then shrugged. She cleared her throat loudly behind her hand, stood at military rest, took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

As seconds seemed to tick by Snape, impatient with the stupidity of it all, opened his mouth to protest in some vile and sarcastic way when he was cut off by the sight of flashing violet eyes barely concealed behind their lids and a voice boomed out of the petite girl.

"Message to Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry, Leader of the Order of the Phoenix, and Lemon Drop Loving Fool. Greetings," started the voice in a sultry tone lightly accented in Eastern European so unlike the girl's previous London drawl, "and salutations. I hope that my messenger has reached you well," a delicate snort interrupted then continued, "and is not causing you any undue trouble," this prompted an eye roll.

"You are most likely wondering what this is all about, so I will cut to the point," a pause. "I wish to extent a hand of friendship-an alliance- with you and your cause. We seem to have a mutual… hmm… annoyance to deal with. Should you choose to pursue a partnership, my daughter cares information in which to contact me," she pulled out a parchment seemingly from thin air. "I am also willing to present as a token of trust, an item that you will find most valuable in your endeavors. Trust me, Albus," violet eyes flashed, "you want to take my offer. The item in question is something you most assuredly do not want to decline. Please feel free to contact me at any time. Sincerely,

"Daughter of the First Coven, Mistress of the Second, Mother of the Dead, Queen of the Night and Bloodpop Sucking Fiend— Lylat."

The girl strode forward, eyes still glowing, as she held out the parchment to Dumbledore. He stood, an unreadable expression on his face, reaching for the slip when he was stop by the sound of the voice.

"Post script – Don't bother, Albus. The questions will get you no where," the voice ended. Lorian's eyes dimmed to their natural gleam. She shoved the parchment into Dumbledore's outstretched hand and stepped back.

Dumbledore looked between the paper in his hand and the girl in front of him obviously weighing the last words he heard. Evidently he found them lacking.

"I don't suppose you would be willing to tell me _what_ exactly your Mistress is?"

Lorian just smiled. Her lips pulled over her teeth to expose one elongated—

The teachers scrambled to their feet raising their wands to the creature before them. Her smile only widened to display its pair and calmly stared into Dumbledore's eyes.

"Mistress Mother will be waiting for you response, Headmaster," said her rough London voice returning then she blinked and was gone.

The noise the erupted was deafening.

"Did you see that?"

"Where'd she go?"

"Impossible!"

"-swear she apparated!"

"Bloody hell! Did you-"

"SILENCE!"

Dumbledore's voice rang out through the hall effectively ceasing all noise. Their faces turned to their headmaster as he spoken once again.

"Classes will be cancelled for the day," murmurs interrupted and silenced again. "All students are to return your common rooms until further notice." He turned to his staff. "Professors, if you would follow me."

The parade of teachers followed Dumbledore out the side door leaving the confused and highly excitable students to their instructions.

"Oooh, I wonder what that was all about," Pansy proclaimed with thrill.

"How'd she do that?" questioned Blaise as they walked toward the Slytherin common room. "That silencing spell was modified to only allow Dumbledore and his cronies to hear her, but it was so precise. And that apparition?" he shook his head. "It's not supposed to be even possible on the grounds!"

"No use hurting your pretty head about it, Blaise dear," said Pansy patting his arm in comfort. "It will only lead to frown lines."

He sighed. Turning to his other side to say something more, Blaise froze and blinked in confusion.

"What happened to Draco?"

Draco had in fact left the Great Hall in the company of his two friends, but only to be stopped ten feet away from the entrance by a strange feeling across his spine. He halted in his tracks barely acknowledging the other students milling around him and was ignored by them in turn. The door swung to a close as the last straggler caught up with his friends leaving Draco and his tingling spine alone in the hallway.

"What do you want, Joan-oh, wait. It was Lorian, wasn't it?" Draco sneered over his shoulder as the girl stepped out from the shadows.

She smiled lightly at his back, striding forward to pause three feet away. Cocking her head to the side, her eyes once again blazed the brilliant violet and the voice of the Mistress Mother came forth.

"Message to Draco Malfoy, Son of Lucius of the Sect of Algev, Bearer of the Blood of the Dead.

"Don't bother, little dragon," Draco cringed at the nickname, "Your father will not know of this and neither will that his excuse of a Sire. You seem to suffer from the same misgivings your father does. The Coven follows _me_," the word was said with such feeling and power that it ran up Draco's back leaving him to shiver uncontrollably.

"So, little dragon, I will have your silence on what you have heard and seen. Everything will be revealed at its opportune time and your Family's place in the scheme of thing will be most… enjoyable. Love,

"Lylat."

The message ended and Draco felt Lorian fall back into the shadows. He almost sighed with relief when he felt a cold breath on his ear causing him to freeze in fear.

"Oh, and Draco," Mother's voice began again, "God won't help you."

With that Lorian blinked out and Draco was left shivering in fear in the middle of the hall.

Days passed before Draco even thought upon the day Joan- no, Lorian appeared in the Great Hall.

He snorted-a very dignified, manly snort- at the name. He remembered distinctly the day he first had met Joan Christine "Lorian" Salvorn at one of the many parties that were held over the summer. Of course her hair had been red then but it had been the same girl. The very same one that was Mistress Mother's favorite daughter. The very same Mistress Mother that was now trying to form an alliance with Dumbledore and his muggle-loving dimwits of an Order. And he couldn't tell his father a single thing about it.

Draco growled as he exited Transfigurations, pushing aside a Ravenclaw that had managed to find its poor way into his path.

Not only had he had to keep his tongue, he had also been _subtly_ reminded where the real power lied in the Coven. That and blackmailed! He seethed at the thought. How had she bloody known about the bloody muggle religion books?! He tried to put it off to himself as mere curiosity but he knew his Death Eater faith was wavering… and now so did Mistress Mother. But he was loyal to father, that he knew would never change.

He hissed the Sytherin password and proceeded across the common room to his dorm. Slamming his bag onto his bed, he groaned at the onset of a painful headache. He rubbed his temples hoping to alleviate the pain a bit while rummaging through his drawers for a Headache Reliever. When none could be found, he kicked his dresser forcefully only to cause Draco to forget the throbbing at his head for the one at his foot.

"Do I even want to know what the dresser did?" Blaise said amusingly as he entered the dorm. Draco shot him a livid glare but was ignored in favor of unpacking books. Finding his victim lacking, Draco turned his glare to his dresser.

"It ate my potions," he hissed sullenly.

His friend just laughed. "Gods, Draco, is that all? I thought for sure it ate your favorite pair of silk boxers or something!"

"Very funny, Blaise," he said crossly as the headache came back in full force. "You wouldn't happen to have Headache Reliever, would you?"

"Um," Blaise walked over to his desk and began shifting through the drawers. "I'm pretty sure I do. Unless," a teasing glint entered his brown eyes, "my desk ate them too." Draco groaned. "Then I'll just have to have you beat it into submission and demand that it cough up the potions immediately… Ah, here you go."

He handed him a small blue vial. Draco snatched it, took one large gulp, and fell on his bed with an enormous sigh.

"Hard day at work, deary?" came Blaise voice in a high falsetto.

"Shut up, Zabini."

"Ooh, resorting to last names are we? What did Weasley say this time?"

"Nothing. Ignored him."

"Oh, dear, goodness!" Blaise mockingly gasped. "What kind of bad day is that?"

Draco groaned into the sheets. "One where class was a bitch, homework's a nag, and my head feels like it's under its own form of Cruciatus."

"My," The dark skinned boy blinked, "how eloquently put."

A pregnant pause ensued before it was broken by none other than Blaise grabbing Draco's wrist.

"Let's go to dinner."

Draco groaned again as he allowed himself to be dragged unceremoniously to the Great Hall finding that he lacked the energy to fight his curly headed friend. It also gave him more time to mull over his thoughts.

Gods! What was she planning? He began to turn over the message he over heard that morning again. What item could possibly help Dumbledore in the war? A weapon of some sort? He very much doubted Mistress Mother would give anyone a destructive substance. Perhaps information in the form of an item? That he could see. Mistress Mother did hold invaluable information in her cache as well as a horde of informants and spies. Then again the item is question could be about anything. Mistress Mother did have a strange bit of humor pertaining to what she deemed 'an item.' Damn bleeding va—

Draco was jolted from his thoughts when he ran into Blaise's back.

"Blaise! What the—"

Then he saw it. A lone figure in the middle of a crowd around the Gryffindor table standing placidly surrounded by concerned madness.

"Potter."

As if hearing his name within the maelstrom the boy's eyes looked up. Dark unruly shoulder length hair fell across bespectacled eyes. His skin glowed pale amber in the torches of the Great Hall. He stood there in prefect health and sanity; barely looking like he had been captured, tortured, and left to die in a dungeon under Riddle Manor.

"Where ever he's been, they sure treated him well," Blaise said softly.

Draco never managed to bite back a retort for Potter had finally caught his eye and left him breathless. Unnatural bright green eyes bore into him with an expression akin to lust that he had seen countless times, and it suddenly clicked into place.

Mistress Mother's alliance with Dumbledore. The item of great value. Draco's forced silence. The subtle play of powers.

"Fuck."

It had been said in a near whisper but he knew Potter had caught it when Draco saw the small smile creep into his eyes.

They brought back Dumbledore's item of value, but not before they placed their mark on him.

Harry bloody Potter had been Turned. He was now a night loving, chaos wielding, fang bearing, blood sucking fiend of a vampire and Draco had no doubt that it was Mistress Mother to blame.

He could almost hear her maniacal laugh echo in the back of his head and shivered.

It was all so very, _very_ wrong.

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AN: WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! Excuse me, (cough) Phlegm.

My first shot at a HP fic. Wonder what you all think so far. So PLEASE (bats eyelashes) review?

Most of you questions about the story itself will probably be cleared up in about three chapters…. i.e. who exactly Mistress Mother is; Draco and his father's role; where Harry was for months; who the bloody beeping-A is Joan/Lorian? So don't ask. Or if you do, I'm not telling yet. (sticks out tongue)

The romance will start relatively slow in this. I don't want them jumping each other… though it's not a bad idea. Quite a bit of OOC might be happening in the beginning so just heads up for now. They will eventually return to themselves but with my demented touch. Wee!

Anyway, review please! And let's get started on the next chapter! (bounces around uncontrollably at the keyboard) Get ready for a freaked out Bumble and co. as well as a hot and bothered Draco!

Love, peace, out!

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